


The Prince's Assassin

by Shoddy_Morningstar



Category: Divinity: Original Sin (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25963009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoddy_Morningstar/pseuds/Shoddy_Morningstar
Summary: Sebille's decision not to kill the lizard prince was purely tactical. She kept staring at the corded muscles bulging beneath his thin prisoner tunic because she appreciated a good meat-shield to soak up damage for her. That was all. But he was starting to notice.And she wasn't the only assassin watching the Red Prince.
Relationships: The Red Prince/Sebille
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Hello Meat Shield

Sebille plunged her dagger down into the base of her victim’s neck. Or at least, what she assumed to be the neck. These voidlings were vaguely insectoid but had mouths and legs in all the wrong places; like someone had tried to put together a centipede but never read the manual. Plus all the pieces were ten times larger than they should be.  
  
The elf bent down to examine the fresh gash in her leg one of those misplaced mouths had inflicted. The mandible had only grazed her, but that was mostly thanks to a lucky breaking of the sand beneath the creature’s feet as it lunged. She was trained to quickly take out a single target and be done, not manage an extended fight against several enemies. And she certainly didn’t want to be taking anymore hits. “I need a meat shield” she said to the corpse of the voidling, which probably would have agreed with any statement including the words ‘need’ and ‘meat’ if it were not quite so dead.  
  
Not long thereafter, she was sneaking along the coastline when she spied a large and stupid lizard. She could tell he was large because he was wearing the same one-size-fits-all rag every captive Sourcerer on that doomed ship had worn, and his was torn across his broad chest, exposing bright red scales layered on rippling muscles. She could tell he was stupid because he was standing on a cliff wistfully overlooking the sea, with his back to the island and the numerous threats it contained.  
  
Sebille crept within 30 feet on the lizard and began her usual game of rob-kill-ignore, of which the third option was most common, much to the benefit of the generally oblivious subject. She couldn’t spy anything valuable on him, which was unsurprising given that the night before they were both prisoners on the same ship. She was about to back off when she saw him sigh and pick up a makeshift shield. The shield was, in fact, a piece of the ship that had washed ashore. It was roughly the size of a fat dwarf. By unappreciated coincidence, it was roughly the shape of a fat dwarf as well. The lizard absentmindedly spun the shield on his hand, holding it at arm’s length and twirling it with his fingers as if it weighed nothing.Sebille raised he eyebrow and whispered to herself “Hello, meat shield.”  
  
The lizard spoke commandingly without turning. “You think so? I rather disagree.”  
  
Sebille froze. The lizard must have detected her with a spell, though he didn’t appear to be any kind of wizard. She thought it unlikely that he could have heard her approach or speak. Then again, she knew little of lizard physiology or sensory perception. Perhaps they had great hearing. She filed away that information in the not-unlikely event she would need to kill him later (and the virtually certain event that she would need to kill some lizard or other later). The crimson lizard was still standing there, waiting for a response, so Sebille decided to engage. “You disagree with what?”  
  
“You said you think it’s a neat shield, didn’t you? I think it’s a terrible shield. But between that ship and this island my standards are dropping by the hour, so ask me again this evening.” He turned and regarded Sebille, his face falling a bit when he saw the mark on her face. “A slave. How annoying. Was your master on the boat? If they are still alive, I’d rather speak with them directl-” Before he could finish his sentence, Sebille was behind him with her knife to his throat.  
  
“I can send you to hell to wait for him. My former master will be joining you just as soon as I can find him.”

Now it was the lizard’s turn to be caught off-balance. He opened and closed his mouth uncertainly several times before speaking. “Not a slave then. Please accept my apologies.”  
Sebille considered ending the lizard’s life in that instant. But standing immediately behind the arrogant reptile provided her a fantastic view of his toned, corded muscles. This one could take a lot of hits for her on the front line, and dish a few out as well. She removed her blade from his throat and moved several paces away.  
  
Instead of running or attacking, the lizard nodded to her with polite gratitude. “What should I call you, free elf?”  
  
“Sebille. And you?”  
  
“I am the Red Prince of the Lizard Empire”  
  
“So, your highness?” She said mockingly.

“Red Prince will do.” He replied, declining to acknowledge her sarcasm.  
  
“Alright. Red Prince. If you haven’t noticed, this island is crawling with voidlings and void-infected creatures. All of which seem to be trying to kill us.”  
  
“Not to mention the magisters.” The lizard put in. “They seem more than willing to kill us if they can’t easily subdue us.”  
  
“Yes, the magisters too. I’ve already demonstrated what I can do. And you seem to excel at lifting heavy things and talking your way out of certain death.”  
  
Red Prince gave a bow so low and exaggerated that it swung right past humility to become downright self-aggrandizing.

“With these things in mind”, she continued, “I have a proposition for you.”  
  
Red Prince grinned at her as his forked tongue flicked into the air. “I’m listening.”

* * *

As it turned out, most of the other accused sourcerers in fort joy were incompetent. Or harmless, if one viewed them as a target, which was the way Sebille regarded most everyone. This made blending in rather difficult, as simply walking in front of a magister with some degree of coordination or confidence would attract attention and lead to questioning. Fortunately, Sebille had grown fond of questioning thanks to her most recent acquisitions.

The group of magisters currently accosting the elven assassin had taken issue with her last response. Sebille couldn’t remember the question just now, but her answer was still sitting hilt-deep in the eye-socket of a particularly zealous (now particularly dead) magister. As she sprinted down an ally she was relieved to spy one of her acquisitions train his crossbow on the pursuing magisters. A grizzled war veteran, Ifan Ben-Mezd took careful aim before launching a bolt into the hamstring of an unarmored magister, crippling him.  
  
“A fine shot, mah boy!” said one of the few individuals in Fort Joy old enough to call Ifan “Mah Boy”. Out of a barrel next to the magisters rose a sea-weathered dwarf wearing a fantastic naval hat. The magisters were shocked at the sudden appearance of the hard-to-miss dwarf, and even more shocked when he grabbed the nearest Magister and sent a current of electricity into her body. The dwarf, known simply as “Beast”, let out a hearty belly-laugh as he jumped out of the barrel and went to work on the magisters with a pair of short axes.

If the dwarf’s sudden appearance had shocked the magisters, the unexpected bolt of lightning launched from the end of the alley stunned them. Behind it stood a giggling red-headed human holding a staff. As she started casting another spell, her pupils began to dilate then expand beyond her irises, overflowing into the whites of her eyes and turning them black. Sebille saw the light start to dim around the wizard and swore she could hear a very faint, demonic laugh growing louder. “Lohse!” She shouted, grabbing the woman’s arm.

Lohse blinked twice, her eyes reverting to normal. “What? Did it happen again?” Sebille was about to answer when an arrow whizzed between their heads and sunk itself into the wooden palisades behind them. The archer responsible took aim with another arrow, but just as she fired she was slammed by a giant boulder, showering her in dirt and oil. The hooded figure who had launched it cackled before raising a bony hand and launching a trio of flaming daggers at his victim, which exploded on contact with the oil and sent the screaming magister to a fiery death. Fane, the inquisitive and absurd undead sourcerer, pulled his hood back and tilted his head at Sebille, the fire in his right eye blinking out for just a moment. She would later learn that this had been the skeleton’s best attempt at a wink.

Yes, Sebille’s acquisitions over the past few days had been most satisfactory. They had this group of magisters well in hand. Unfortunately, another squad had spotted the skirmish and was now barreling around the corner into the alley. Two wizards from the group began casting as a pair of knights, both wielding great swords, charged at the still disoriented Lohse. Forced to deal with the more immediate threat, Sebille engaged the knights and prayed for poor aim on the wizards’ part.  
  
She needn’t have worried. A makeshift shield the size and shape of a fat dwarf came spinning through the air to strike the first wizard in the back of the head, then ricocheted into the chest of the second. Lacking another projectile, The Red Prince threw his body into the magisters, slamming into the first of the wizards with such force that he was knocked into the second, sending them both tumbling.  
  
One of the knights turned at the sound of the commotion, and Sebille did not waste the distraction. She threw a dagger into his leg and followed the momentum of her throw into his body. Instead of striking him again, she slid between his wide-stanced legs, extracting her dagger as she did so and coming up behind him. Before he could turn, the nimble elf sliced her dagger across his throat, reducing his cry of surprise into an inarticulate gurgle. Before his body hit the ground, she was already turning and launching daggers at the other knight, who was bearing down on Lohse. Regaining her composure, the somewhat-possessed wizard activated the magic in her gloves to teleport the knight away just before his swing connected. He appeared 10 meters down the alley, finishing his swing into a stone wall and losing his sword from the recoil caused by hitting it. An arrow from Ifan would immobilize the hapless knight as Beast and Fane closed in to finish him off.

Sebille turned her attention to The Red Prince, but her breath caught in her throat when she saw that he was staring at her. When he noticed her attention he quickly looked down, becoming suddenly fascinated with a loose plank on his shield. The corded muscles in his long neck stood out as he arched it to examine the wood. It had been a few days since their initial meeting, and in that time the Red Prince had doffed his torn magister-issue shirt and replaced it with a studded leather cuirass which left his bulging arms exposed. Sebille had been a little disappointed when he found the armor; he had spent the day before fighting with no shirt at all, and Sebille could not help but appreciate the flexing and shifting of his muscles as he fought.

Fane, the undead wizard, had finished off the last magister and moved beside her to regard The Red Prince. “I’ve noticed you admiring our companion. You find his body impressive, yyyes?”

Sebille glowered at him. “I don’t like what you are implying, skeleton.”  
  
Fane stepped back as if he were surprised, although a total lack of skin or muscles meant one had to rely on body language with Fane, without the benefit of facial expressions “I’m implying that his body is impressive. A large, toned muscular system is desirable in a warrior, yyyes? In a pre-dead one, anyway, yyyes?”  
  
Sebille continued to glare at the genuinely confused skeleton.

“What have I missed? …Ohhhhhh, you think I was addressing your desire to mate with him!”  
  
Sebille’s eyes went wide and she turned to make sure the lizard wasn’t paying attention. Fortunately, he appeared to be fully engaged in discussion with Ifan.

The skeleton continued, “Well, this is hardly the time or place to be thinking about that. I had warfare on the mind, you see, what with this fight we just had. But since, you brought it up, I’ve been dying to observe some cross-species fornication. When you let him inseminate you, you’ll let me watch, yyyes? I need to take notes on the physiological ramifications of size discrepancies betwee-” Fane cut off his sentence as he felt the elf’s dagger at his throat.

“Do you want to die wizard?”  
  
The skeleton’s voice clicked in a crude approximation of a laugh. “That would be quite redundant. However, thanks to my highly developed social awareness I have surmised that you are opposed to my observing your impending sex.” He paused a moment to muse to himself. “Perhaps Lohse and Beast will oblige me.”  
  
Despite her continued attempt to look threatening, Sebille couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image Fane’s last statement had constructed in her head. As if on cue, Beast and Lohse approached the pair. “Lassy, you’re injured.” Sebille followed the dwarf’s concerned look down to her abdomen, which had been grazed by an arrow. Sebille replayed the fight in her head, trying to figure out when the injury had occurred. The cut was shallow but long, and blood was starting to soak into her armor.

Beast turned to The Red Prince. “I’ll wrap the wound, but she’ll be needing the potion.”  
  
The lizard placed a hand protectively on his backpack. “It’s my last one. I’m not handing it over for some elf’s paper cut.”

The dwarven sailor stomped up to The Red Prince and stuck a stubby finger in his face, but Lohse interceded before he could build up a head of steam. “No need, captain fancy-hat. I’ve memorized a healing spell from the book you nicked off of Griff’s thugs this morning.”  
  
Sebille bit her lip nervously. “Your using me as a Guinea Pig for your spells now?”  
  
Lohse, pointed at the wound as her hands glowed with blue light. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”  
Beast chuckled as Fane took out his notebook and placed his face inches from Sebille’s stomach, drawing a replica of the wound and muttering to himself gleefully. As her wound started to stitch back together, Sebille glanced at The Red Prince out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at her again.


	2. A Gag Reflex

To a prince growing up in the lizard empire, whether someone was a slave made little practical difference. It was mostly a question of protocol. Most everyone had to obey his orders; the difference was in who the orders were addressed to. For a prince to address someone else’s slave directly was considered distasteful; more an insult to the prince than to the master. Some of his underlings had been resentful, which didn’t bother The Red Prince so much (he would be resentful in their position). So long as they followed his orders, they were free to grumble to their heart’s content.  
  
Sebille’s hatred for her former master went beyond anything The Red Prince had ever seen. Much about Sebille went beyond anything the lizard warrior had ever seen. She was quick to anger, quick to strike, and quick to form an alliance when she believed it was to her advantage. The Red Prince was used to others viewing him as a means to an end (that was how most of the nobles at court had viewed the lizard). It had never bothered him then. It didn’t bother him with Sebille now.

Not at first, anyway.  
  
Watching the lithe elf fight was fine art to The Red Prince. Every muscle in her body was honed for combat, and she used each of them in flawless harmony. Subtle shifts in her footing allowed her to execute blindingly-fast combat maneuvers. While everyone could those displays of lethality, the tactically-minded Red Prince appreciated all the little things that went into them. He had missed a few parries- and taken a few hits as a result- because he had stopped to stare at the Elf in a fight. The nimble movement of her fingers as she threw dagger after dagger. The arch of her back as she prepared to launch herself forward. The way her legs looked when she ran. The curve of her incredibly long, almost lizard-like neck…  
  
The Red Prince shook his scaly head. He was trapped on an island with giant voidspawn (who were trying to kill him and his companions), assassins from the lizard empire (who were trying to kill him specifically), and bloodthirsty magisters (who despite being the local authority seemed intent on torturing and killing everyone, including each other when it suited them). He could ill afford to be caught off his guard because he was fantasizing about an elf.

The party had escaped Fort Joy through a tunnel in the dungeons the day before, and were now significantly better equipped. The Red Prince had discarded his old shield in favor of a round metal one he found in the fort. Beast had asked for a moment with the dwarf-shaped shield to say an affectionate goodbye, and no one in the party could tell if this was meant as a joke or if the eccentric Dwarf had developed some kind of anthropomorphic bond with a piece of driftwood. They had spent the better part of the morning hunting a group of murderous bandits. A large group of the killers had struck out at dawn, leaving four of their number behind to protect their camp. The party decided this was the opportune time to strike and gather information. The team of six had been through several fights together now, and their group tactics had improved with every bought. They quickly overwhelmed the four bandits.  
  
The Red Prince had learned that elves are handy folk to have around when you want to do some reconnaissance. Ifan and Lohse had attempted to gather information from a magister before they had joined up with Sebille and The Red Prince, and they had had to go through all these annoying steps like “leave one enemy alive” then “bind that enemy” then “chase that enemy down because Ifan can’t tie a proper knot” then “ask the captive magister to give you information” then “argue about the morality of torturing enemies for information” then “bluff that you’re going to torture the magister” then “fail your bluff because Lohse talks really loudly so she heard the whole conversation so she knows you’re not really going to torture her and she’s not saying anything”. As it turned out, the Demon inside of Lohse was quite fond of torture, and had taken that opportunity to briefly take over. The magister had spilled her whole life story before the possessed wizard turned her into a pile of blood. Unfortunately, Ifan had been too busy trying to snap Lohse out of it to write anything down.   
  
The Red Prince far preferred Sebille’s method of reconnaissance. He had heard it described as cannibalism, but the elf had grimaced when he referenced it as such. He watched her now as she lifted a piece of meat from a non-bandit body they had discovered at the camp. Sebille casually tore the bone from the human forearm before tilting her head back, opening her mouth wide, and sucking the whole thing down. The party watched in shock as the piece of meat move slowly down her long neck. The Red Prince felt his pants start to bulge as he imagined another piece of meat making its way down her neck. He subtly repositioned his shield to block the party’s view. 

Lohse and Beast recoiled from Sebille in disgust. Ifan gave a disinterested shrug. Fane, on the other hand, tittered with excitement.

“Absolutely fascinating! You just unhinged your jawbone. Like a snake! Fortunate that you have all those tendons holding it together. And you can read her mind now, yes?”  
  
Sebille bobbed her head in an apparent compromise between a nod and a shake. “I gain some of her memories. Her most recent memories. Generally, the ones associated with whatever piece I consume. This was her shield arm. I can remember the fight. Held off three bandits at once. Blocked everything... until she didn’t.”

Lohse blanched. “I just don’t understand how you manage to do that.”  
  
Fane perked up. “Unhinge her jaw? It’s not all that complicated. Here, I can show you-” He unhooked his own bottom jaw and waved it in front of her, oblivious to her obvious disgust, before it slipped from his fingers down the cliffside. “Arrr. Das Unhordunad. Ar ba ride bark” He gestured down the small cliff to clarify his inhibited speech and gave a bony thumbs-up to the group before making his way down the trail.

Beast howled with laughter as Lohse shook her head and turned back to Sebille. “No, I mean how do you stomach it? I gag at the mere smell of a corpse.”

Sebille smiled at Lohse. “We don’t”  
  
“Well, obviously. You’re an assassin. It would be very inconvenient if the smell of corpses made you gag.”

“No, I mean we don’t gag. At all. Elves don’t have a gag reflex.”

The Red Prince swore there was an audible *ding* as his now raging erection struck the back of the shield. He quickly turned away to hide his arousal. No one seemed to notice except Beast, whose eyes were inconveniently located at lizard-crotch level. The grizzled dwarf grinned and gave a conspicuous wink.

Ifan took notice, “Now what was that about?”  
  
The Red Prince was now awkwardly facing away from the entire party and staring at a wooden stump, so he quickly fabricated a justification for his sudden about-face. “The elf can do what she must. I’d rather not watch.”

Sebille wasn’t surprised by their responses. Most non-elves found the practice disgusting. Still, The Red Prince’s reaction hurt. Why did it hurt? What had she expected? She bit back against the pain and anger rising up inside her and gathered up her weapons.

Beast’s laughter resumed. “That’s right. He’d rather not watch. He’d rather do something else. He’d rather…” but the long-lived dwarf cut himself off when he noticed the lizard prince’s murderous look and considered that murderous looks coming from lizard princes probably led to murder more often than not. “He’d rather get out of here. Those bandits’ll come back, and I’d rather not die.” He gave one last glance at The Red Prince, who raised one eyebrow to convey that the Dwarf had acted wisely.”


	3. Wide Eyes and Squirting Fluids

He walked through the market of Fort Joy. These people were prisoners, but they still crafted goods and haggled with each other here under the watchful eyes of the magisters. They bought and sold, ate and slept, lived and died; all with that damned blue collar around their necks. The Red Prince reached up to his own collar, one which had no clasp and was irremovable even to one with his immense strength. Only powerful source magic could remove a collar like this, and the lizard couldn’t improve his own sourcery so long as he was wearing the collar.

He approached his favorite merchant stand, one which sold a variety of pastries. They were always misshapen, which the Red Prince didn’t mind because it drove the price down without sacrificing flavor. He pointed to a cinnamon-crusted piece of fried dough and the merchant bent to retrieve it. The Red Prince reached into his coin pouch and removed a few pieces of copper. The man placed the pastry in The Red Prince’s hand- then lunged forward and punched him in the stomach. No, he hadn’t punched him the lizard realized as he felt wet warmth spreading across his belly. The man had stabbed him.   
  
“You will never escape the house of Shadows, _your highness_.” The merchant stalked forward, brandishing the knife, but the Red Prince easily kicked the uncoordinated human onto his back.

He turned to see a magister guard approaching to investigate the commotion. The Red Prince waved to her and started to explain what had happened, but then he saw the woman’s face. She was grinning wickedly and holding a bloody knife in her own hand. “The house of shadows has not forgotten you, _your highness_. Have you forgotten us?”

The lizard stumbled backward- and felt another knife plunge into his back. A random passerby from the crowd- no, two- no, three! He looked around and realized that every person in the market was holding a knife, and every one of them was moving slowly but purposefully toward him. He called for his companions, but they were nowhere to be found. The crowd converged on him and plunged their knives into his chest. He called for Sebille. He clutched his sheets. He twisted and fell downward and landed with a thud on the wooden floor.

The Red Prince sat there, panting. A thin sheen of sweat covered his muscular chest, the candlelight glinting off of it as it rose up and down with his heavy breathing. Slowly, he remembered where he was. He was on a ship; The Lady Vengeance. He was headed to Reapers Coast with his five new companions.

Th Red Prince sat on the floor of his cabin for some time, having fallen out of the human-sized bed he had been attempting to sleep in. The lizard crawled back into the bed, curling his tail around so it would not hang awkwardly off of the end. The nightmare was already starting to slip away, leaving him feeling shaken. The memory of a bad dream fades quickly, but the emotions it incites linger behind, creating an unnerving feeling that something is amiss and leaving the dreamer to helplessly grasp at that something as it slips further and further away.

Lizard dreams carry more weight than those of the other races. They are not necessarily portents of the future, but they are never without real meaning. Sometimes they clue the dreamer into something their subconscious knows but their conscious mind has forgotten. Sometimes they depict real events happening far away. Sometimes they create a pathway for communication between lizards.  
It wasn’t difficult to understand what this dream had meant; The house of shadows was still after him. He was on their mind, just as they were on his.

He has been hounded by their assassins ever since his exile. One of their agents had even pursued him to Fort Joy. The man had ambushed The Red Prince on the beach on the edge of the market. The poor fool had never imagined that the lizard had made plans to spar with an elven assassin on that beach. Sebille was standing immediately behind the man as he pulled a fire grenade out of his bag and brought his arm back to throw it. The Red Prince heard the sickening crunch of the man’s wrist breaking, and turned his head to see the elf pull the grenade out of his hand, stretch out the front of his breeches, shove it into his smallclothes, and kick him into the waves. She did it so fast that the man didn’t register exactly what had happened, and searched the sand franticly for his missing grenade, unware of its new location right up until the moment his crotch exploded.  
  
He shuddered at the memory and felt his penis shrink in empathy. Afterwards, Sebille had calmly wiped the blood off her face. Then she walked up to The Red Prince, brought a hand up to his check, and wiped away the blood from his. As he replayed that event in his mind, the Red Prince felt his manhood move and grow larger again as blood rushed to it. It was a comforting feeling. He embellished the memory, imagining the lithe elf’s hand stroking his cheek, then moving down across his muscular chest. She was pressing into his body now, lowering him down into the sand underneath her. Her hand continued its descent, her fingers playfully tracing circles around his stomach before unfastening the lacing of his breeches.

The fantasy continued to play out in his mind; Sebille rubbing her hand against the outside of his breeches and pressing her body against his. As he imagined her hand sliding down under his smallclothes, he reached down under the sheets with his own hand to mimic the feeling. He wrapped his hand snugly around his penis and in his mind’s eye saw Sebille gasp aloud in surprise at it’s length and girth as she wrapped her own tiny hands around it. He imagined the elf’s tight, toned body straddling him as she started to move her hands up and down, coaxing his manhood to swell to it’s full length.

His hand started to pump faster, the imagined Sebille matching his pace.

He unwillingly let out a little moan as the pleasure swelled up inside him. He saw the elf’s coy smile as she gazed down on him, saw her pull her flowing hair to one side and slowly start to lower head. Her mouth was open, wide open, ready to slide onto his penis. As she lowered her head, she maintained eye contact, staring into his eyes even as she took his manhood into her mouth. The lizard let out another unwilling moan as he felt his penis swell, preparing to orgasm. He was going to make a mess in this bed, but he didn’t care. He wanted this. He needed this. He could maintain his cool indifference toward the elf during the day, but at night, inside his head, he would make her his own. He would see her eyes go wide as he squirted his semen down her throa-

The illusion was shattered by the sound of the door bursting open. The surprise caused The Red Prince to Ejaculate into the sheet, but he did his best not to react as he looked up at the door. Standing in the doorway, brandishing a dagger, was Sebille. The elven assassin took two steps and leapt toward him, certain death in her eyes.

* * *

Sebille inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh sea air. Something about being on the deck of a ship in the black of night comforted her. There was nothing to see but the undulating and snapping sails and the faint glow of the horizon in the moonless sky. There was nothing to hear but the soft crash of waves against the hull. There was nothing to feel but a soft breeze splashing her with cool sea spray.  
  
Two of the crew were still awake. One was manning the crow’s nest and the other stood behind the wheel. Although she made no effort to remain undetected, neither one for them noticed her; the former because she was keeping a dutiful watch of ships and shorelines, the latter because he appeared distracted with his own thoughts. Visibly agitated, the lizard seemed to be debating something with himself. After a time, he gathered some unused rope and tied one end of it around the wheel and the other around a bit of railing, fixing the wheel in place and preventing the ship from drifting.

Sebille smiled to herself at the slacking of the crewman. He would surely be stealing this opportunity for a quick catnap (or lizardnap, as it were). Sebille never had much respect for authority, and she wasn’t about to tattle to one of the sleeping officers (who would probably prefer never to learn of the crewman’s indiscretion and get a good night’s sleep themself). She was about to dismiss the crewman from her mind when she noticed a faint glint of steel under his robes as he moved away from the wheel and headed below decks. There was absolutely no reason for him to be armed. Her curiosity piqued, Sebille dropped into a crouch and moved silently behind the oblivious lizard.

She followed the stairs below decks and pursued the lizard down a candlelit hallway. The increased lighting gave her a better view of the crewman; a thin lizard with grey skin and a wavy blue fin. His hand was on the hilt of his weapon. As he pulled it from it’s sheath, Sebille caught a glimpse of a sigil on the hilt and her heart froze; it was the sigil of her former master. She stopped midstep, her heart pounding. He knew she was here, and he wanted her dead. Thinking quickly, Sebille turned down another hallway to head the back way to her room. The lizard assassin was no doubt headed there, expecting to ambush a helpless, sleeping elf. If she could beat him there, she could turn the tables.

Sebille couldn’t be sure that she would beat the assassin to her room taking this route, but she didn’t need to. If she could corner him there, she could kill him before he could alert whatever accomplices he might have aboard the ship. She sprinted through a storage room, trying to make up time on the lizard who would be taking a more direct route. Seeing the ladder to the lowest deck, behind a crate, she leapt over the crate and tucked in her legs, somersaulting through the air and falling through the ladder hole. Instead of grabbing onto the ladder, Sebille turned her body another half rotation and kicked out at the ladder, reversing the direction of her spin and launching her body back down another hallway toward her room. She twisted her body in the air and landed on her feet, but the momentum she had retained from falling an entire story down the ladder carried her forward faster than she could control. As she stumbled down the hall, she kicked over a barrel of fish and swore at her freshly stubbed toe. The nimble elf quickly regained her balance, placing her feet carefully to avoid slipping on the spillage all over the floor.

Sebille rounded the final corner and stared at her closed doorway. She listed carefully, and stayed away from the door. The elf had made great time, and with the degree of caution the lizard had been making to stay silent, there was no way he would have had time to make it here, pick the lock, and get inside her room. If he had been coming down the hall in the other direction and heard her kick over the barrel, he might be hiding there. Slowly she peered around the corner and saw… nothing. An empty hall with no cover to hide behind.  
  
Sebille crept backward and put her back to a corner. An assassin was here to kill her, and she had no idea where he was. Being an accomplished assassin herself, she knew that those two factors generally led to the target’s swift and certain death. She should have just taken the lizard out on the floor above when she had the chance. Now she could only wait for him to make a move, unwilling to move herself and expose her back.

As she stood there, ready to strike (and be struck), her mind continued to race. Maybe the assassin wasn’t here at all. Maybe he was waiting for her elsewhere. But where better to strike than in the target’s room while they sleep? It had always been one of her preferred tactics. It was easy, effective, and rarely led to witnesses (and collateral deaths witnesses usually experienced). No, the assassin had chosen this time to strike because he knew his target would be asleep. He would go to there room. And if target had been Sebille, she would have seen him. Or she would be dead already. Which meant she wasn’t his target at all.

A long chain of thoughts passed through Sebille’s mind in a matter of a few seconds. Who was important enough to be assassinated? Gareth and his Seekers were mostly neutral in the conflict, so they wouldn’t be prime targets. Alexander was unconscious in another room, but was too well guarded for a single assassin to have a high probability of success. Ifan’s greatest enemy was the same unconscious man. Beast’s nemesis, the dwarven queen, certainly had means and motive, but she believed him to be dead. Lohse’s enemy was residing inside her head, and he wanted he very much alive for the time being. And anyone who might have wanted to kill Fane had been dead for thousands of years. That left the Red Prince. The Red Prince, who was the exiled heir to the thrown of an empire. The Red Prince, who she had saved from an assassination attempt mere days earlier on the beach of Fort Joy. The Red Prince, who was the obvious target for a lizard killer.

Sebille bolted down the hall toward the other end of the ship, praying to the seven that she would make it in time. She tore around the last corner and saw his door was ajar. It hadn’t been when she had walked by it on her way up to the deck. The killer was already inside! She barreled into the door with her shoulder knocking it wide open and taking in the room.

The Red Prince was sitting up in a tiny bed, shirtless, with a sheet covering his legs. He was staring at her with a look of horror on his face, appearing oblivious to the assassin who had snuck around behind him. That lizard was himself recovering from the shock of Sebille’s sudden appearance. Sebille took advantage of the killer’s pause, and launched herself across the room and over the bed, trying desperately to put herself between the killer and her vulnerable companion. He movement snapped the killer out of his spellbound stupor, and he made the decision to swing for The Red Prince’s throat instead of defending himself. It was a move that would most likely lead to his death, but would virtually guarantee the elimination of his target. Sebille wouldn’t make it. She knew she couldn’t make it.

In a last desperate effort, she threw one of her daggers at the assassin despite being mid-lunge and off-balance. It whizzed dangerously close to the Red Prince’s head and turned awkwardly so that it went hilt-first when it struck the wrist of the assasin’s leading hand. He dropped his dagger like a stone as that arm fell limply to his side, atrophied from force of the blow. The lizard scooped down to pick up the dagger in his other hand and moved to strike again, but by that time, Sebille was there to block.

A short, awkward skirmish followed, with both combatants fighting with a single dagger in their non-dominant hand. Sebille was a superior fighter, and she quickly gained an advantage, feinting a low job that made the lizard hop his legs backward while leaning his head forward to keep balance. Sebille followed through on the jab with that arm, but the lizard hadn’t noticed (or even considered the possibility of) her tossing the dagger upward mid-thrust to be caught in her other hand, and he was utterly unprepared when the momentum of that hand pushed the dagger forward and into his neck. He stared up at her, eyes going wide as blood squirted out of his throat. Her arm was now the only thing supporting him, and when she retracted it, the lizard collapsed to the floor, dead.  
  
Her heart pounding, Sebille turned to the dumbfounded Red Prince. He sat there and stared at her, then stared at the assassin, then at her again. Then the lizard slapped himself in the face several times and squeezed his eyes shut before opening them wide. Having proved to himself that he was awake (to his extreme disappointment), the lizard quickly moved to adjust the sheet for reasons Sebille couldn’t fathom. The Red Prince had never cared for modesty before, and it seemed strange that he would be keeping the sheet (which was inexplicably wet) over his manhood now.

Sebille waited for a thank you or some other kind of acknowledgement. She had literally saved his life. Some shock was to be expected, but this was a warrior for whom near-death experiences were nothing new. After a minute of awkward silence, the lizard spoke. “Could you… could you please leave? It looks like I have some cleaning up to do. You made a bit of a mess.”

Sebille could have punched him. “Made a bit of a mess? I just saved your life you cold-blooded ingrate.”

“I could have handled him. I’ve been handling these assassins on my own for years, and I’m quite capable of doing it without your help.”  
  
“ _Without my help_!? That assassin was just standing over your sleeping body with a knife. The only reason your alive is because I got here and because I made a very lucky through with my dagger. You should be kissing my feet and offering to name your lizard children after me, not sitting there, blaming me for the mess, asking me to get out, fidgeting with your bedsheets like I have inconvenienced you.”

“You didn’t… I wasn’t… That’s not what I meant…” The lizard dropped his head, refusing to meet the elf’s eyes. “Thank you for your help. Now please, get out of my room.” Sebille really did punch him then, landing a blow on the lizard’s nose. She stood there in silent fury, waiting for him to react. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just sat there. Sebille turned from him in disgust and strode to the door, slamming it behind her.


	4. The Palm of his Hand

Lohse felt quite relaxed as she slowly regained consciousness. For the first time in the entire journey, she had a sense that everything was going to be all right. No, that wasn’t it. It was more like she didn’t have a sense that anything was going to be wrong. For that matter, she didn’t have a sense of anything. Not where she was or when she got here or why there was a pile of bones stuck to the ceiling.  
  
Had someone stuck it there with a spell? What would be the point? Maybe it was stuck to the same webbing that was wrapped around her. She looked down at her body, cocooned in sticky string, and at the long strand of it running down and fastening her to the floor. No, that didn’t make sense. The strand would connect her to the ceiling. Which meant the bones were on the floor, which was far more plausible. She smiled to herself, momentarily contented at having resolved the mystery. But even with the voidwoken poison dulling her nerves and sedating her mind, Lohse was starting to pull out of her daze.

He whole body from the neck down was wrapped in webbing, which was annoying because her nose itched, which was interesting because just a few minutes ago she couldn’t feel anything at all but now she could and her nose itched. And now the fact that she was cocooned and hanging upside down in a cave was really starting to concern her, which made her try to focus on remembering how she got here, which was difficult because her noes itched, and that was seeming like less and less of a problem relative to the pile of bones beneath her and the voidwoken spider responsible for making that pile which was the same one responsible for her being cocooned, and that cocoon prevented her from moving her arms which was a problem since she needed to lift a hand up to her face because HER NOSE STILL ITCHED. 

Lohse cried out in frustration, and the ensuing echo made her gasp at her own carelessness and snapped her completely out of her daze. She needed to get down and free of this webbing. Now.  
  
Thinking quickly, the wizard focused her mind and chanted a string of arcane words. At a location safely on the ground, the dust coalesced into a furry little spindly-armed ball. The incarnate chattered to itself as it hopped from one foot to the other, scanning the cave for a threat before looking up at its master inquisitively.  
  
Lohse didn’t waste any time before starting her next spell. As she cast, she focused on the incarnate. The moment the last syllable left her mouth, she experienced the disorienting feeling of going from upside down to right side up without any of the degrees of sideways that traditionally come in between. Lohse stood on the ground where her incarnate had just been. She heard a high-pitched fuss being made above her, and Lohse inclined her head to regard the cocoon which now held the sputtering incarnate she had swapped places with. Lohse winced in sympathy. She had a soft spot for the little guys, but he would vanish in a minute once her magic expired.

She quickly realized that her summoned companion wasn’t the only one making noise. A particularly round sack of string in the corner had managed to dislodge itself from the wall, but the string wrapped around the occupant’s head (assuming it had a head), and it was quite impossible to see what was inside. The sack tried unsuccessfully to inch its way forward before changing strategies and _bouncing_ toward the sound of the fidgeting incarnate and emitting a string of dwarvish curses. “Come on ye eight-legged, two-faced, no-brained, spawn of shit! I’ll bounce ye ta death! I’ll rip off yer hairy face and bludgeon ya with it!”

Lohse giggled.

“Lass? Is that you? Don’t worry, I’ll get ye out!”  
  
The cocoon which she assumed contained Beast turned and began bouncing toward a spot just to the left of her before tripping over a bone and tumbling to the floor. Lohse continued to giggle even as she took out a dagger and began cutting away the webbing around the Dwarf. She managed to extract his appendages and the sticky webbing covering his eyes, but just as she went to clear the string around the rest of his head, they heard an explosion from down a tunnel and the unmistakable voice of Ifan reprimanding Fane. “No damned fireballs when I’m right next to the spider you skinless maniac, you’re going to- watch out, there’s another one behind you!”  
  
Beast’s eyes went wide, “Our companions are in need, lass. To arms!” The dwarf’s torso and neck were still encased in sticky webbing, but his limbs were free enough to awkwardly waddle down the hall. And his left arm was juuuuust emancipated enough to scoop up his ridiculous hat and plop it on top of his still web-covered scalp while waving an axe in his right. Lohse started to sigh, but another explosion from down the tunnel reinforced to her the seriousness of the situation, and she quickly set-off after the waddling mass of dwarf-limbs and spider string.

* * *

The second spider went down quickly thanks to the timely arrival of Lohse and a mass of webbing, axe, and hat that Ifan could only assume to be Beast. He nodded appreciatively at the wizard as she returned to unfinished task of freeing the dwarf. “I’m so glad you two are alright.” She said as she slapped the fidgeting Beast and gestured for him to keep still as she cut away the rest of the webbing around his face. “How did you manage to get out of the webs?”  
  
Ifan shrugged, “There weren’t any webs. I woke up like this just a twenty minutes ago. Still shaking off that damned sleeping poison.”  
  
Fane huffed. “There _were_ webs. Lots of webs. And they were stuck to your hair. Why do people have hair? Very inconvenient for fighting giant voidwoken spiders, what with all the sticky string they shoot at you. I had a far easier time getting myself out.”  
  
Lohse paused her cutting to regard the skeletal mage. “You cut him out, then? How long ago did you regain consciousness?”  
  
Fane would have looked bemused if skulls could show bemusement. “Regain? As if I could lose it? And to a _poison_ , no less. It’s ridiculous on so many levels. I’d like to experience unconsciousness at some point. I might even have one of those dreams the red one keeps talking about. Such a fascinating subject, if you-”

“Wait.” Ifan interrupted. “So if you never lost consciousness, how long ago did they ambush us?”

“Hours. It’s been terribly boring, really.”

Beast’s freshly excavated face was a mask of concern. “Hours? The prince and the elf lass are still out there.”  
  
Lohse laid a comforting hand on the emotional dwarf’s shoulder. “Sebille is as slippery as they come, and lizards are particularly resistant to poisons. I’m sure they both made it out. They’re probably both fighting voidwoken as we speak.

Ifan looked somberly at the charred remains of the spider that had nearly ended his life. “I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

* * *

  
  
The voidwoken loomed up from the darkness, towering over the two companions. They were both panting from exhaustion and bleeding from minor wounds, surrounded by the bodies of the voidwoken spiders they had killed. They had no spells with which to quickly heal injuries and the last fight had depleted their stock of potions to a single bottle. Sebille steeled herself for this new threat; a centipede-like creature with a massive set of crushing jaws. If she could cut holes in the voidwoken’s protective shell, The Red Prince’s concussive strikes would incapacitate it.

Sebille sprinted forward, sliding deftly under a spray of corrosive spittle. Timing her slide perfectly, The Red Prince curled his shield into his bicep and then rotated 360 degrees, flinging the disk over her prone form. The shield struck with a crunch causing pieces of chitin to fall away. As the creature reared back with pain, Sebille pumped her arm three times, launching a trio of daggers into the now compromised spot where the shield had struck. Her adrenaline pumping, the lithe elf launched herself up and over the demon insect, landing deftly behind it and landing a flurry of strikes into its back.

Without moving its feet, the creature rotated its dripping maw and latched its teeth around her, pinning her arms to her side. Its razor-sharp teeth easily punctured her thin leather armor, and Sebille screamed in pain as its jaws tightened around her. Just as her vision started to go black, she saw a streak of red as the sprinting The Red Prince slammed into the voidwoken like a battering ram. The creature was knocked prone, but kept it’s teeth closed tightly around Sebille. The Red Prince grabbed the creature’s jaws and attempted to pull its mouth open, but it’s grip on the elf held tight. Changing tactics, he picked up his shield and began repeatedly slamming it into the creature’s neck. As the elf’s breaths grew more ragged, her companion’s strikes grew more desperate. After a particularly loud crunch, Sebille felt the voidwoken’s grip on her loosen, and felt strong arms extract her from its maw.  
  
The Red Prince looked down in horror at Sebille’s shattered body. The voidwoken’s teeth had crushed the bones in both of her arms and punctured her lungs. The lizard prince held the tiny elf in one arm while quickly removing her pack with the other and digging through it for their last potion. He was elated when his hand closed around the neck of a bottle, but his face fell when he pulled out a broken, rapidly draining potion. He cupped his hands and attempted to catch all of the life-saving liquid he could, shifting Sebille’s weight to rest against his muscular chest. He moved his cupped hands to her mouth.

Sebille was lost in blackness and pain. She was unaware of where she was or who she was or who has tenderly holding her. One thing pierced the shroud of her failing consciousness; a gentle voice saying “drink”.

She drank.

The instant the liquid passed down her throat, it’s healing magic went to work. She drank, and the bleeding stopped. She drank, and her wounds closed. She drank, and she remembered who she was, where she was. She drank, and she remembered who was holding her. She looked up at him, the lizard prince who had grown up pampered by elven slaves who served his every whim. He sat now on the floor of a dirty cave, cradling an elf in his arms and hand feeding her the final dregs of their last potion. Tears were in his eyes, though as he looked over her now healing wounds he appeared to be smiling.

“There’s not enough, but get all of it you can” he said as he pressed his hand to her lips. In no position to argue with him, Sebille began licking the last remnants of the sticky liquid off of his hands. She could taste the salt of his sweat, and as her tongue rubbed against his skin, her head started to fill with visions. She had never told the rest of the party exactly how her “cannibalism” worked. By merely tasting flesh, she could see memories. Only by consuming that flesh would she experience the thoughts and feelings associated with those memories, but just a touch of the tongue would give her pieces of visions. It felt like an invasion of the lizard’s privacy, but her immediate need for healing and sheer _curiosity_ quickly overcame any compulsion to explain. She licked his hand.

_The Red Prince’s hand wrapped tightly around his hammer. He was in the middle of a fight. He turned and gasped at something a few feet away. It was her. His mouth hung open as he watched her slide underneath a magister and, without slowing her momentum, extracted a dagger she had just thrown into his thigh. Before the magister could turn, she sliced across his neck, cutting out his throat and turning to the next enemy without a single wasted motion._

That was one of their first fights together. Had The Red Prince been scared? Horrified? Impressed? She licked his hand again, taking in another bit of potion and another memory.

_The Red Prince’s Hand gripped his shield and moved it in front of his waist. He was watching Sebille eat someone’s flesh. She saw through his eyes as Fane tore off his own jawbone and waved in in front of Lohse before losing it down the cliffside. She heard her own voice conversing with Lohse. She felt her… her… something completely foreign to her strike the back of the shield. Was that her penis? No, it was The Red Prince’s penis. She saw the field of view change as the lizard turned from the party to hide his erection. She felt him blush._

These were private memories, and The Red Prince’s hand was effectively licked clean. Still, she couldn’t help herself. She licked.

_The Red Prince’s hand wrapped around something between his legs. She heard herself- rather, she heard The Red Prince whispering something to himself. It was her name. Suddenly, the door flew open, and she saw herself leaping through the frame and launching herself over the lizard to strike at the assassin who was hiding behind him._

She felt stronger now, strong enough to stand. But she didn’t. She stayed cradled in The Red Prince’s arms. Sebille thought she ought to be unnerved by what she had seen, but she wasn’t. She felt safe. She felt desired. And now more than ever, she felt ravenously curious. The Red Prince said and did nothing. He just held her, oblivious to what she now knew about him. They sat that way for some time until the rest of the party stumbled into the cave and hugged them with relief.   
  
The spell of intimacy created by the moment was broken- for the time being.


	5. The Greatest Lovers

A pair of large horns loomed over The Red Prince. The lizard spared a glance up at the bull-horns as he walked underneath them and into the establishment. They had been mounted over a crudely carved sign; the Black Bull Tavern. “Finally” muttered both Ifan and Beast, though the surly assassin referred to finally locating their target- a Dwarven mafia boss said to operate out of the basement of the establishment- while Beast simply meant that after days in a voidspawn infested caves he would finally get a drink. The thirsty dwarf bum-rushed the bar, quickly becoming lost in the taller crowd save for the feather of his extravagant hat, which flicked and floated over the other patrons like hummingbird. Ifan melted into the shadows, no doubt attempting to listen on any conversation regarding their nearby target. Sebille nodded approvingly and appeared as if she were about to join him when a teal lizard wearing a crooked smile sauntered up to her.  
  
“Lovely elven lady! You strike me as one who is looking for something. And I- my dear- I am a lizard who can give it to you.”  
  
The Red Prince’s eyes narrowed at the flirtatious lizard, and he turned himself towards a bard performing on a table to hide the fact that he was listening intently to the conversation.

Sebille raised her eyebrows mockingly at the lizard. “Can you, now? Pray tell me, what is it that I’m looking for?”  
  
The lizard took a step back, feigning insult. “Why, love- my dear- of course it is love. We are all looking for love. Emotional love, spiritual love, and of course, passionate physical love. We need that kind of love most of all- my dear. And do you know which species provides that love the best?   
  
“Something tells me your about to say lizards.”  
  
The Red Prince couldn’t help but wince at the sarcasm in her voice, though he knew it was intended for this charlatan and not for him.  
  
“Why no, that is not it at all! The species which can best meet our physical needs- my dear- is our own. Don’t you agree? So hard to find handsome elven men in a town like driftwood, wouldn’t you say? Except for a man like me, my dear. I can have one sent here this very night, to care for your every need; and for a very modest price.”  
  
If anyone had been paying attention to The Red Prince, it would have been very clear that he was not listening to the bard. He was standing very still and staring very hard at the wall the bard had been standing in front of several moments earlier, his nostrils flaring in consternation.   
  
Sebille smiled sweetly at the lizard pimp. “I am not interested in elven men.”  
  
The Red Prince turned now to the conversation; he could no longer keep up the façade of disinterest.

“No?” said the teal lizard. “What race are you interested in- my dear? I can provide whatever you need. Humans, lizards, elves, or dwarves. Men, women, men AND women. Just name your desire and I will make it so, this very night.”  
  
Sebille did not blink. “Undead. I am physically attracted to the undead.”  
  
The lizard’s mouth went agape, and he sputtered for a few moments before deciding that the elf had been joking and started to laugh awkwardly. The laugh died in his throat when, in a miracle of uncanny timing, a passing patron bumped into the man standing next to her, knocking aside the mask he wore to reveal a pair of glowing eyes and a skeletal visage. Fane quickly returned the mask to his face, obscuring his identity to all but the still sputtering lizard who nearly fainted when Sebille wrapped her arm around Fane’s waist and winked suggestively.

Lohse, who had been listening into the entire conversation, collapsed into a fit of giggles. The Red Prince, having recovered from his momentary panic, couldn’t help but chuckle. Beast had returned with drinks just moments before, and now burst into bawdy laughter, although it was unclear if he had caught the moment or not. Beast made a habit of bursting into Bawdy laughter at seemingly arbitrary times, including on one occasion while sneaking past a group of magisters in barrels (much to the dismay of his companions and the surprise of the magisters).   
  
Fane, for his part, was unsure of exactly what was going on. But his friends were laughing and Sebille had her arm around him affectionately (for despite a lack of sexual attraction she was still fond of the undead mage). And for the first time in a long time Fane felt no desire to take out his journal and record the moment. Instead he let it wash over him, basking in a camaraderie of companions who knew what he looked like underneath his mask and cared about it only so far as they could use it to play a joke on over-eager tavern patrons. He smiled and laughed along, and to all those around him the laugh sounded as natural as a song to a bird.   
  


* * *

After relaxing with the round of drinks Beast had brought to the table, Sebille excused herself to speak with the owner of the tavern. She returned a full 20 minutes later with Ifan at her side, the grizzled war veteran wearing a grim smile that promised useful information had been gathered. The companions huddled around the table as Ifan informed them in a low voice of the tunnel to the dwarf mafia boss’s hideout in the cellar of the tavern.

“There’s a dwarf guarding it who, from what I’m told, is not letting anyone down. The dwarves are aware that the magisters raised the price on the boss’s head and are taking every precaution.”  
  
Lohse cut in. “Maybe Beast can make some headway; convince the guard that he is one of them.”  
  


Sebille nodded. “A sound idea. but we’ll need more information on the organization if Beast is going to pose as a member. The owner mentioned that several of the dwarves have rooms here. We can head to the upper floors and sneak in. I scoped out the rooms just now and there are three that I think might be in use by the dwarves.”  
  
They agreed to split into groups; the stealthiest three (Sebille, Ifan, and Lohse) each taking along a less dexterous companion (The Red Prince, Beast, and Fane). The elf and the lizard made their way up to the room on the third floor, while the other two pairs took the two rooms on the second.  
  
After ascending to the third floor, The Red Prince scanned the lobby at the top of the stairwell; no one was up here. Sebille nodded to the door in the northeast corner of the tavern. “That’s the room we need to get inside.”  
  
The Red Prince nodded and, after making sure the lobby was clear, tried the door to find it locked. He turned to Sebille. “You generally carry lockpicks, don’t you?”  
  
“I generally carry Fane, who can get his Bony fingers into the locks. But this time I have something better.” She smiled and pulled out a small brass key. “I got it off the owner.”  
  
“You know, Sebille, you are very good at what you do.”  
  
“You have no idea.”  
  
Sebille turned the key in the lock and started to open the door, but The Red Prince moved protectively in front of her as she swung it open, sweeping into the room with his weapon drawn in case of hostile occupants. He needn’t have bothered the room was empty and the bed was clean and made. “You’re sure a Dwarven criminal gang is using this room? It looks completely unused.”  
  
“They aren’t using it.” Sebille replied. She closed and locked the door behind her. “I didn’t steal the key off the owner. I paid for the room.”  
  
The Red Prince turned to her, visibly confused.  
  
Staring at the lizard with blinking, Sebille unbuckled her weapon belt and walked slowly but purposely up to him, stopping just a few feet in front of her companion. Her breath was quickened and her skin was flushed, but she never broke eye contact with the lizard Prince. “The room isn’t theirs. It’s ours. It’s for us.” Slowly, she reached out her hand and placed it, fingers spread against his chest. She held it there and arched her neck to stare up at the much taller lizard.  
  
The Red Prince had spent years training in the art of charm for gaining political advantage, and many more years of extracurricular practice in seducing women for his own desires. But all his charm, his silver tongue, failed him now as he stood awkwardly before Sebille.   
  
“You wish… you want to… with me… now?”

Sebille smiled coyly and reach her arm up around his neck, pulling his ear to her lips. “I want you to fuck me, right _here_ , right _now_. I want you to strip of my clothes, spread my legs, and put yourself inside of my body.”  
  
The Red Prince gasped and stared at her. She wanted him. She knew he wanted her. How did she know? He tried to think of something smooth or clever to say, but words failed him. “I… yes. I want that. I want you. So badly. I… damn it, so much for my silver tongue, it’s useless.”  
  
The elf winked at him. “Oh, I can think of plenty of uses for your tongue.”  
  
She pulled The Red Prince’s mouth to hers and kissed him. Slowly and intimately they kissed, her arms draped across the back of his neck and his around the small of her back, pulling her into his embrace, lifting her off the ground with ease. Sebille teased the inside of his mouth with her tongue, and was met by the lizard’s own; longer and more dexterous. It played along her lips, brushing against them and igniting the sensitive nerves there. When she pulled her tongue back, he followed it in, pushing his own into her mouth and down towards the back of her throat. She reflexively pulled away; or tried to, at least. She may as well have tried to move a mountain. Sebille had witnessed The Red Prince’s immense strength in battle but feeling it firsthand was something else. He continued to explore her mouth with his tongue as his hands took liberties with her body, all while continuing to hold her several inches off the ground with ease. She was helplessly trapped in his embrace. She thought back to the moment in the cave, when he had cradled her in his muscular arms, feeding her a life-saving potion from the palm of his hand, tears brimming in his eyes. He cared deeply for her. He respected her. And to her shock she found she trusted him completely. She gave in to the feeling of helplessness, allowing him to take complete control of her body. She wanted him all over her. Around her. _Inside of her.  
  
_ The Red Prince eased his grip, pulling his head back to catch a breath as he gazed at her, his eyes full of desire. Sebille didn’t waste the momentary freedom afforded to her arms. She reached around his neck and began unfastening his armor, her nimble fingers making quite work of the straps. The Red Prince immediately began doing the same with hers, although his large hands were terribly ineffective for the small ties on her slim leather body suit. He growled in frustration and she laughed.  
  
“Is this your best armor?” he asked.  
  
“No, I left that in my pack.”  
  
“Good. Hold Still.” The Red Prince reached one hand down the front of her tunic, and Sebille gasped in shock as she expected him to cup her breasts. Instead, he gripped her tunic from the inside, grabbed the neckline with his other hand and pulled apart. With a tremendous _rrrrrrrrrip_ her tore the body suit apart, reaching his arm all the way down to separate it completely into two pieces. The backside fell away first, then the front, leaving her standing completely naked in front of him.   
  
Sebille stood shocked, staring at her destroyed clothing then up at the lizard prince. He stared back, also in shock at the majestic beauty of the creature standing before him. Her collarbone stood out from her thin torso. Her skin was smooth and pristine, making her chiseled muscles appear even more captivating. Her breasts were small but perky, with massive nipples standing hard from the sudden chill of being undressed. Her long limbs had light body hair running down her arms and legs. A small tangle of dark hair covered her crotch.   
  
As his eyes settled there, he felt the blood rush to his penis as it swelled and rose, poking through the slit in the trousers Sebille had already partially removed. Sebille looked down at it and her eyes widened in shock. She immediately thought of Fane’s question from weeks before about their potential mating and the “physiological ramifications of size discrepancies between species”. She had never considered until now, this moment, that it might actually be an issue.  
  
Unsure of herself for the first time this even, Sebille stuttured. “You w-want to put that… that thing inside of me?”  
  
The Red Prince moved deliberately to cover the few feet between them, lifting her easily into his arms. She could feel the bare skin of his penis pressing up against her leg. He put a hand on her chin and turned her face away from his manhood to look him in the eyes, mere inches from his face. “No Sebille. I am _going_ to put this thing inside of you. I am going to thrust into your wet pussy until I am satisfied. And then this thing is going to fill your body with my seed. Right here. Right _now_. And with that, he slid down his pants, grabbed the end of his penis, and pressed it up against the lips of her Vagina. It held there, the bulbous tip too large for her small slit. She felt the pressure of it against her crotch, the sensation of it sliding around on the wetness her body had produced from her own arousal. The pressure built, becoming more and more uncomfortable, as The Red Prince pressed the tip of his penis harder against her very small opening. Then, like a cork, the bulbous tip shot past the soaking-wet lips of her vagina and up inside her, the thinner shaft immediately following it up until she could feel the tip hit the wall of her uterus.

Sebille’s discomfort was replaced by ecstasy. The feeling was sensational, but the knowledge that this was the Red Prince, that he was hers, that he was inside of her body, was even sweeter. She heard him moan with pleasure as he readjusted her legs, pushing them upward. The flexible Sebille easily accommodated the movement, placing her feet up near her own neck and wrapping her arms around them. The Red Prince immediately moved his hands to wrap around hers, pinning them to the sides of her neck. She felt something else- his muscular tail- wrap around from behind and support her back. Sebille suddenly found herself helplessly immobilized; Her legs were stuck with her feet up by her ears, pinned there by the position of her arms with were trapped by The Red Prince’s iron grip. She was helpless to move, helpless to resist, helpless to do anything but squirm and feel pleasure and let The Red Prince take pleasure from her.  
  
The Red Prince smiled lustfully at her, his tongue flitting out and teasing her face. Then he looked down to her crotch, his eyes encouraging hers to follow. She obliged, her eyes following his down once more till they settled on the place where their bodies were joined and widened in shock once more. He wasn’t all the way inside her; not even close. A full four or five inches of the base of his penis remained outside of her, even as the tip pressed against the wall of her uterus. He looked back up at her and smiled again.  
  
Sebille shook her head. “You can’t”.  
  
The Red Prince grinned. “I won’t. I won’t slide in another inch.” He paused. “Not unless you beg me to.”  
  
Sebille was panting from both pleasure and the physical strain on her vagina. “Beg you to? You expect me to beg you?”  
  
The Red Prince’s knowing smile widened. “Only if you want to.”  
  
Sebille thought about it. She was already in a little bit of pain. She didn’t think The Red Prince could get any deeper. But to her own surprise she wanted him to try. She desperately wanted him to push as much of him inside of her as he possibly could, and damn the pain.  
  
Sebille spoke softly, her voice barely audible. “Ok, I want you to go deeper.” She felt increased pressure inside of her as the Red Prince forced his dick an inch deeper inside of her.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sebille, I couldn’t hear you. What do you want?”  
  
Sebille was grimacing as her pain increased, but so too did her pleasure. She wanted more. “Do it, I want you ball’s deep inside of me.”  
  
The Red Prince pushed himself into her with even more force, the base of his penis nearly disappearing into her body. Sebille moaned in esctacy then grimaced in pain, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she gritted her teeth.  
  
“I told you to beg, Sebille. You’re going to need to beg if you want all of it. You didn’t even say please.”  
  
Sebille couldn’t take it anymore. The pain was almost unbearable, but the pleasure was beyond anything she had ever felt. But more than the pleasure, she wanted the knowledge that he was fully hers. She needed him, every inch of him, inside her. She needed it now. Gasping at him, her whole body tensed the elf screamed “PLEASE, MY PRINCE, PUT ALL OF YOUR DICK INSIDE OF ME. I NEED YOU TO GO BALLS DEEP INTO MY PUSSY. PLEASE. PLEASE.”  
  
Without hesitation, the lizard Prince obliged. He shoved every inch of himself inside her, the immense strength of his arms pulling the elf’s helpless body down onto his erect penis. They both cried out in simultaneous ecstasy. Sebille felt even more pressure as The Red Prince’s penis bulged and swelled inside her. Then she felt something warm and wet explode inside of her body. Much of the semen shot directly into her uterus. The rest, having nowhere to go, was pumped backward along the Red Prince’s penis to gush out around the lips of her Vagina. The Red Prince’s knees wobbled as he moaned with unbridled ecstasy and continued to thrust into her, more semen spilling out of her with every thrust.  
  
As the sticky liquid continued to pump out of her pussy and the Red Prince’s manhood softened, the pressure inside of her started to abate. He left it inside of her but moved her legs back down from behind her arms and wrapped his larger form around her, falling sideways onto the bed but never releasing her body from his iron embrace. Sebille continued to shudder and tremble as waves of pleasure rolled through her, and the pain she had felt was replaced with an overwhelming sense of… fullness. She thought of the Red Prince’s arms around her. She thought of his now flaccid penis inside of her. She thought of the semen that was still pumping out of her around the edges of the Red Prince’s dick, and of the semen still deep inside her. She wanted it to stay there. She wanted him to be inside of her forever. The pleasure their intercourse had brought her was bliss, but the satisfaction of being full of him was a feeling worth all the pain and soreness of her still throbbing pussy.

The pair held each other, and fell asleep still joined with every inch of his penis inside of her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now, folks. I hope you enjoyed!  
> If there is demand I may write more.


End file.
